The Hunt – by Chris Graham…

It was Halloween night, the full moon was bright,

why did you choose the witching hour

to explore this old house, where not even a mouse,

would eat any food, it would be sour.

 

Then a spooky sound, echoes around.

Claws, clickety, clacking on the floor.

You look all about, and know without doubt.

They’re coming from just outside the door.

 

Suddenly … silence … there can be no more pretence.

You know, that they know, where you are.

The window is open, but is that just a token?

Are there others waiting by your car?

 

The choice is stark, to go out in the dark,

and take the chance it’s all clear.

The handle starts turning, your stomach is churning,

Is it one, or two, or all … Oh Dear.

 

No time to plead, you must take the lead,

through the window and drop to the ground.

Get onto your feet, run fast and fleet,

over the hedge you bound.

 

Use all your cunning and keep on running,

The river is near, flowing water they won’t cross.

You reach the bank, the water smells rank.

Time to swim like a Boss.

 

You gasp and wallow, find the river is shallow,

so you splash to the other side.

Climb out, look about,

there must be somewhere to hide.

 

The moon is still high, no clouds in the sky,

There’s a light you can see up ahead.

Safety at last? Is the danger passed?

But then, to your uttermost dread.

 

Howling has started, you feel faint hearted.

They’d found a bridge and had crossed.

To the light you race, without trying for grace.

Then suddenly, the light is lost.

 

You sink to your knees, your breathing a wheeze.

They found you lying prostrate.

Their fangs were bare, as they grin and stare.

“Good game Mistress, really first rate.”

 

Your three dogs leap about, as if to shout,

”We won again, fair and square”

Without further ado, with some barks and a BOO,

all head for home, they for treats, you to have a shower.

 

This poem was  first published HERE

and is copyright protected Ⓒ2019  to Chris Graham

aka The Story Reading Ape

Any resemblance to actual living (or deceased) people is purely coincidental

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